


Cold Without You

by lucyxswann



Category: Flogan - Fandom, Garcia Flynn - Fandom, Garcy - Fandom, Lucy Preston - Fandom, Riya - Fandom, Timeless - Fandom, Wyatt Logan - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Divergence, F/M, Timeless- Titanic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucyxswann/pseuds/lucyxswann
Summary: Based off the thought “I wonder what the context of the Garcy titanic kiss was”.





	Cold Without You

**Author's Note:**

> It’s some fluff but mostly angst because as much as I hate reading it, it’s all I can write. I’ve never written fanfiction before so be kind please, just trying to heal the garcy part of my heart. ♥️
> 
> *Time travel disclaimer: Apparently, sometimes people in the present can remember those who have been erased (think Emma/Jessica in the finale) and since time travel isn’t real and there aren’t rules, I’m playing by my own a bit here. Just enjoy the angst.

All Lucy Preston knows is she’s cold, very cold.

She’d seen the movie and read every book (non-fiction or otherwise) but nothing prepared her for the true horror of the Titanic in real time. Standing there helpless as hundreds of people went down with the ship; only a faint hum of violins to give them comfort as they descended to a frozen watery grave. Lucy isn’t sure whether it’s the images now seared into her brain or the water Flynn and her had to wade through to get to their own Lifeboat but shivering seems to be the only thing she can do. Hoping to catch some relief, she heads to her room, just as cold and empty as she remembers it. There’s that word again… cold. Lucy’s whole life is cold now. There was a brief moment, Hollywoodland, where it seemed warmth would find it’s way back to her but the moment he got that text, life froze again. 

Grabbing her journal, hoping to find answers, Lucy sits on her cot. Not a minute after she finally figured out the best way to read and simultaneously be wrapped in about 5 blankets, she hears a light tap on the door. She looks up from her journal to see Flynn with that textbook broken smirk across his face. “Figured you could use a drink,” he mutters softly, fearing rejection. Lucy reaches out her hand and takes a sip, wincing. “Bourbon. Should warm you right up,” he chuckles. She motions for him to sit with her and he understands her need for the silent company. 

They stay like that in a comfortable silence for some time when finally Lucy turns to Flynn about to speak. She contemplates what she’s about to say. The way her face hardens when she’s thinking deeply and how her eyes go dark… he can’t take this much longer, never sure how much time they have. Flynn takes a leap of faith (at least that’s what Lucy would call it) and before she can say anything he’s placing the softest of kisses on her still frigid lips. He backs off only slightly, their noses still intertwined… her move. Lucy glances up at his waiting eyes, suddenly not shivering anymore. That’s when she seals the deal. Chasing the kiss more urgently this time because if anyone understands the concept of fleeting moments and borrowed time it’s Lucy Preston and Garcia Flynn. 

It’s early when the yellow hallway lights stream in through the rusting windows of Lucy’s room. She feels a welcome ache between her thighs and her lips are still swollen from the passion of the night before. Most notably, she’s warm. Somehow, despite her lack of clothes and the fact every blanket except her small grey quilt has been thrown across the room, Lucy feels heat radiating through her core. She rolls over expecting to find the source of that heat but is shocked to find that the right side of the bed barely looks slept in. At first she wonders if she’d dreamt it all but as she lazily rolls from bed, she can feel last night’s activities all over her body. While she shimmies into the closest pair of pajamas she can find, insecurity creeps in. She had temporarily convinced herself that Flynn is an early riser and he probably went for a hot shower and some coffee but he doesn’t return. It’s not like him to leave her alone for more than 10 minutes especially when there are so many smart ass comments to be made about last night. 

Brushing off her worries Lucy stumbles into the kitchen to find Connor, Rufus, and Jiya bickering over the best way to enjoy an egg. Not wanting to give too seem too eager, Lucy gives her input (sunny side up), grabs some coffee, and sits at the table with Connor. After ten more minutes of breakfast food debate, her worry starts to boil over. Out of nowhere she blurts out, “Have any of you seen Flynn this morning?” 

Almost in unison and very casually, as though one simple word wouldn’t ruin Lucy’s entire existence, Rufus and Jiya ask, “who?” 

Not convinced they aren’t kidding, Lucy asks again, “Ha ha. Very funny. You know, tall and brooding with an accent no one can place?” 

That’s when Wyatt walks in the room. “Sounds like a dreamboat, definitely too good to be true. Are you sure you aren’t having one of Jiya’s visions,” Wyatt quips as Jiya playfully whips a towel at his stomach. 

Lucy just stares back at them realizing the gravity of what just happened. She runs into the living room to the cork board Denise set-up as an ironic scrapbook detailing all the times their mission ended up in a newspaper or history book of some kind. She knows there should be a photo of her and Flynn rushing people onto the lifeboats in the middle of the Titantic. When she finds it, sitting on the shelf next to the board because apparently someone was too lazy to pin it up, she all but drops to the ground. The photo is exactly the same except this time it’s her and Jiya loading people into the boats. She turns back to the board scanning for any sign of his existence besides the warmth that is so rapidly leaving her body. 

She isn’t sure how Rittenhouse managed to rip yet another person from her, and she’s honestly not quite sure why she’s the only one who can remember him, but Garcia Flynn has been erased from history. As reality sinks in, Lucy walks to her room, numb. She sits on her cot, the same one which should smell of him… of them. All she can think to do is wrap herself in a blanket once more, hoping he’ll appear at her door in some sort of twisted Groundhog’s Day. It’s not long before a single tear escapes her hold and she begins to shiver.


End file.
